The Sadist
by Min Daae
Summary: Daemon knows this dance altogether too well. But they're all just practice. Rating for sex, and Sadist. ONESHOT.


Daemon swept across the floor in rhythm to the music, allowing himself to enjoy the familiar and sensual pleasure of dancing regardless of the partner in his arms. He wasn't really listening to her prattling, anyway, face hidden behind his bored court mask and letting his mind wander. It was late, and he would have liked to sleep, but that wasn't an option. Not for him. Even after the dancing was done…

He felt a sharp pang in his groin. So Dorothea had given the little bitch the secondary controlling ring. Wasn't that a lovely surprise? "You aren't paying attention to me," she said petulantly, red lips pouting. She was young, but her face already had a mean cast to it, making her round features look childishly bratty. He smiled at her.

"Of course I'm listening to you, my dear."

"Then why won't you say anything?" She said, irritably. He let the smile widen, feeling the glaze in his eyes. He'd never seen this particular witch before. That didn't matter, though. She'd learn.

"Perhaps I don't find anything worth responding to," he said, lightly, still sweeping her over the dance floor. She tried to stop.

"You bastard," she hissed, venomous and startled.

One, he counted. "Yes, darling, I do believe that's accurate," he said, coolly.

"You can't speak like that to me." She did stop, pulling away as they reached the side of the dance floor, and raised her right hand, the one that bore the ring that corresponded to the ring around his organ. "I can _punish _you, you bastard."

Daemon leaned lightly against a pillar, watching her expressionlessly. Two. "You could," he agreed, mildly. "But then I wouldn't be any good to you."

She hesitated. He smiled and didn't move, and she lowered the hand. She really did know nothing. Not that it mattered, either way. It never mattered. "Meaning?" She said, and couldn't keep the greedy little eagerness out of her voice. He felt the smile widen.

"Meaning that one does learn something over the centuries." One learned many things, really. But most of those Daemon would never show her. Or if he did, she wouldn't survive them.

She took a wavering step toward him. He still didn't move. And licked her too-full lips. "Oh?"

So easy. He found his feet and moved to her, hand tethering her right arm and the other tilting her face up to his. He lowered his lips toward hers, and heard her gasp. "Do you tire of dancing?" He purred. The little bitch wanted to play. He would play. Gladly.

"I-" She said, breathlessly. Her head tilted back. Her lips parted. He took a moment to probe the surface of her mind to find her name, which he hadn't bothered to remember. Cynthia. It sounded like a bitch's name.

He kissed her. He unfurled the seduction tendrils, let his tongue tease against her parted lips, made it gentle and sensual. He felt her shudder a little and drew back before she melted against him, stepping away. Her face was flushed and she fluttered a moment before she collected herself.

"We – we are leaving," she told him, trying to sound imperious. The greediness in her eyes belied that. He smiled, just a bit and offered his arm, which she seized. "As you wish."

She tried to press close as they moved through the hallways, but he stepped neatly away, letting none of his distaste show. No one interrupted them. He kept the silence, waiting until she broke it.

"Shall I…order wine?" She sounded flustered. Daemon wondered if darling Cynthia knew how stupid she sounded when she was trying to be sophisticated. He smiled.

"No, thank you. I have everything I…want."

He could almost hear the hitch in her breath. The increase in pace he certainly noticed. Greedy little whore. He kept his face pleasant and opened the door when they reached her room, bowed, smiled. She swept in, trying to be imperious, but he could feel her eyes as they slipped to his crotch. She licked her lips again, and he hated her for it.

Daemon shut the door, quietly.

Cynthia stared at him, her vapid blue eyes wide. "You're beautiful," she told him. He smiled.

"I know." He crossed to her, tipped her chin up again. She nearly trembled. "Your pleasure, Lady Cynthia?"

She liked the way he said her name. He could see it in her eyes. "Kiss me," she said, trying to be imperious again, but she was far too eager, lust plain in her childish little face.

He kissed her again. The seduction tendrils wound around her, and he could feel her heartbeat quicken. He pressed his lips lightly to hers, then turned her, hands tethering her wrists, lips on her hair, on her neck…he allowed a bit of teeth. She moaned and tried to move back against him. He kept her away. "Not yet," he purred, then stepped back, and smiled his cruel smile, again. "Undress."

She whimpered and obeyed him. She cast aside her dress in a hurry and tried to come back to him. He shook his head. "No, darling. The bed."

He took off his jacket and tie. Nothing else. And went to the bed, stretching out beside her. She tried to reach and touch his face, but he pulled back, dodging it, and caught her wrist instead, kissing the fingers and engaging the second spell.

Her eyes bugged a little as phantom mouths settled on her breasts, phantom tongues teasing at her nipples. He smiled, a bit. "You like that?"

She nodded, fervently, trying to catch her breath. He set a finger to her lips. "Shhh," he purred, softly. "No words."

He kissed her again.

This time, when he pulled back, she was gasping, chest heaving and eyes a little wild. Daemon pushed a little strand of hair back from her face. "Still happy, my darling?" He crooned. She just whimpered. He smiled again and engaged the third spell.

He really did think for a moment that her eyes would pop out of her head, and the hand was only just below her belly button. Traveling lower, of course, and he knew the moment its fingers slipped into her by her little gasp and the way her body arched, but he ignored that. It didn't matter. He drew his hand away and waited.

"Please," she whimpered, after a few moments, then more fervently. "Please…Daemon…" He smiled, just for her.

"Just wait," he said, his voice promising her anything. "Wait."

Within a minute she was crying. Within two she was crying out, begging for him. He let the phantom hands vanish, and the phantom mouths, and knelt beside her. She reached for him and he caught her wrist, no longer gentle, squeezing her bones.

"Darling," he purred, softly.

She spread her legs wide, tried to press her hips up to meet him. "Please…"

Slut. Whore. He smiled wider and took her hand. "Please?"

"Take me, I want you-"

"Ah, darling," he murmured, guiding her hand to his groin. "Therein lies the problem. The feeling, I'm afraid, is not mutual." He made his voice gentle, still, amused.

Cynthia turned her hand and gripped him and just as quickly let go, startled out of her whimpering haze. "W-what?"

He bent his face closer to hers. She tried to reach up to kiss him and he pulled away, again, this time letting some of the distaste show. "Don't be desperate, darling," Daemon purred, softly, and then rolled off her. He stood, went to the mirror, watching her in it as he stripped off his shirt. She watched him helplessly, simply quivering flesh. "It's unattractive. Do you want to know why you chose me?"

He didn't wait for her answer. She couldn't have said anything coherent anyway.

"Because of my reputation." He turned, and smiled at her, not moving to remove his pants yet. He could see her eyes drinking him in, hungry. "Because you _want _what every other little bitch under Dorothea's thumb wants."

That got her attention. She tried to sit up. Phantom hands pushed her back. "No. Stay still, darling." He smiled, and moved his hands to the fastenings of his pants. He could see her stiffen as he began to undo them. "You want to be hurt," he said, letting his smile widen. "You want to suffer, to feel pain, to feel, just for a bit, that someone else is in control…that's what I am."

"W-what do you mean?" Her voice shook with want, need, fear.

"You want someone to wound you. Want someone to make you whimper…" He let a phantom hand brush between her legs. She whimpered. He smiled, wider. "The Sadist, darling. Have you forgotten what they call me?"

She was beginning to understand. He stepped free of his pants and crossed the room back to the bed. Her eyes were wide. "Y-you bastard! I could…I could punish you for such – disobedience!"

Daemon stretched out beside her again. "But you won't. You know you won't. You'd never use it. Not now. Because I'm not disobeying. I'm giving you…exactly what you want."

He kissed her again, with all his art, tongue teasing against hers, teeth nibbling her lower lip. She arched her body against him, pressing wantonly, and this time he allowed it, letting her feel his lack of response. His kiss warm and hot and promising, and his body as cold and still as stone. She drew back, eventually, exasperated.

"You're not-" She licked her lips again. He smiled more.

"Excited? No, darling, I'm not."

Her eyes drank in his face. She kissed him again. Her hand went down between his legs, working the flesh there. She pulled back, flushed. "Damn you – it's true, what they said about you. That you can't even get it up."

"Crudeness ill becomes you," he murmured.

She grabbed at him again. "Don't you _want?" _Her voice was thick with frustrated lust, her skin red all over, inner thighs glistening with moisture. He rolled her to her back and straddled her. She whimpered, again, the words dying in her throat.

"No," he murmured, and pressed his lips to her throat, letting his voice fill with all the cold rage and distaste he'd held back before now. "Frankly, Cynthia, you disgust me."

She was almost too far gone to realize what he was saying. Almost. But not quite. She began to cry, desperate with need, hatred blazing in her piggish little eyes. "You _Bastard!_ You can't – you can't do this!"

Daemon laughed, low and cruel. Three. "The death of illusions are always unpleasant, aren't they? I hope you enjoy the demise of yours." He moved off her and stepped away, dressing as he keyed the last spell. And stood, and watched, as the phantom hands and mouths and cock gave her what she wanted.

By the time he'd left her, weeping and limp with the force of her climax, he'd counted twenty-three. He went down to the ballroom again. The other couples had left, but as he'd expected, Dorothea was still there. He smiled at her.

"Did you lose Cynthia somewhere?" She asked, cloyingly sweet.

Daemon let the smile show some teeth. "You may want to send someone to help her. I'm afraid she met with some trouble and is…indisposed." He let her take in his unruffled appearance. Waited for a little bit of fear to show in her eyes. Then bowed, ever so slightly. "Good evening, Priestess."

He turned his back on her and walked away, knowing that she watched him go.


End file.
